


still a perfect fit

by onlyeverthus



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 06:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6317767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeverthus/pseuds/onlyeverthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're just two strangers on a park bench.</p>
            </blockquote>





	still a perfect fit

Her hair is the first thing he notices, glowing brightly even though the sun is hardly more than a pale white circle in the sky. It's cold, not that he really notices; the thought only crosses his mind because he sees the heavy coat she's wearing and the multicolored scarf wrapped around her neck. The scarf makes him think of when they were in Cardiff, when she seemed impossibly young and the only thought that seemed to occupy his mind was how much he loved her.

He looks younger now, and feels older, but the sight of her is enough to shake off a few years and he jams his hands in his pockets as he strides over to her.

"This seat taken?" he asks, nodding at the empty side of the bench.

Her expression is vaguely startled when she looks up at him, but she shakes her head and he settles beside her, crossing his legs and folding his hands over his stomach.

He can feel her eyes on him, feels her gaze raking over his suspenders and sees her frown slightly when she reaches his bowtie.

"Aren't you cold?" she asks.

He looks at her and grins. "Don't mind the cold much."

"I knew a bloke like that once," she murmurs, a nostalgic smile touching her lips.

He stares at her mouth and remembers every single kiss he ever gave her, remembers the way she tasted when his tongue slipped past her lips.

"He was a bit mad," she continues.

He raises his eyebrows at her. "D'you think _I'm_ mad?" he asks.

"Maybe a little," she says, and grins cheekily at him, tongue poking between her teeth.

Every smile she ever gave him flashes through his mind and he feels a dull ache in his chest.

"What does that make you, then?" he asks, leaning towards her slightly. "Sitting all alone on a rickety bench in the middle of an abandoned park."

"I'm waiting for somebody," she says.

The wind rises, tossing her hair around her head, and he remembers the way it felt in his hands, remembers how those blonde strands felt wrapped around his fingers

"And besides, I'm not alone anymore. You're here now."

He has to give her this, and he nods. "We can be alone together."

She's staring at him again and after a moment she turns towards him, placing her hand between them on the bench.

"Do I know you?" she finally asks, eyes narrowed.

Her gaze is intense and when he meets her eyes, he remembers when they shone gold, remembers when she burned with the whole of time and space coursing through her veins.

His eyes drop to her hand and he traces the shape of it with his eyes, remembers how easily it used to slip into his and how their fingers fit together so perfectly. He wonders if this still holds for this new body, for these new hands.

He reaches down, taking her wrist gently in his fingers and lifting her hand off the bench. His fingers circle around to the underside of her wrist, brushing over her soft skin and feeling the steady beat of her pulse before sliding slowly along her palm. He hears her gasp softly as their fingers lock together and when he looks up at her, her eyes are shining brightly.

Her mouth is open slightly and he can sense the word on her lips, the name she can't quite bring herself to say aloud.

He leans forward, close enough that he can feel her warm breath on his mouth, and his lips brush against hers like a whisper. He moves closer and his cheek rests lightly on hers as he speaks softly in her ear.

He pulls back and presses his lips to her forehead, reaching up with his other hand to touch her hair. His fingers slide slowly down the silky strands until he reaches the ends and he pulls back.

There are tears on her cheeks and he looks at her for a moment before he stands. Their hands are still joined together and he withdraws his slowly, his fingers sliding the length of hers until only the tips are touching. Neither of them moves for a minute, and then her hand drops to her lap as a shaky breath escapes her lips.

When she looks at him again the corner of her mouth is lifted slightly and he smiles at her, nodding slightly before he steps away from her. He heads back the way he came and glances back just once, admiring the way her hair glows in the wintery sunlight before she disappears from sight.  



End file.
